


The Rise And The Fall

by thestormreaper



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 03:51:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7875100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestormreaper/pseuds/thestormreaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It was supposed to be our story, and now it's a letter you might never receive... " It had been one moment of carelessness that decided their downfall. It had been a bit of blood and bravery and then they dragged each other to hell... and possibly back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Letter

**Author's Note:**

> A warning: this is going to be dark. Rated M for explicit language, violence, sexual content and character death and perhaps all of it together at times. It won't be fluffy, and it won't be a story about good people doing nice things. There will be no Ron bashing, no Death Eater turned Saint, no Damsell in Distress or Mary Sue. There will be no further warnings, so proceed with caution. From here on there be monsters. Thank you for reading.

**...**

_grandfather:_ It was the book my father used to read to me when I was sick, and I used to read it to your father, and today, I'm gonna read it to you.

 _grandson:_ Does it got any sports in it?

 _grandfather:_ Are you kidding? Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, True Love, miracles...

 _grandson:_ Doesn't sound too bad. I'll try and stay awake.

~The Princess Bride

* * *

Chapter 1 – The Letter

* * *

My dearest friend,

I deeply regret what I am about to tell you, for I never intended it to be a story for you to read, a letter you might never receive. It was supposed to be our story, and Ron's, and so many other other's. Merlin's beard, but I miss Ron, and I miss you and I miss myself and our time in Hogwarts that feels so distant now, like some kind of dream your uncle would have hated. I have not been to the castle ever since after Dumbledore's funeral, and one might call me a coward but I might not find it in me to care any longer. I have changed, Harry, and the times have changed, too, and when I once liked to plan ahead and made you think about your future (Circe knows you would have made an excellent Auror) I can no longer _see_ this future, I just don't believe in it any more. Ever since our first year we have fought, again and again, to save a world that might have never been meant for me, certainly wasn't meant for Ron and I have no idea if I will see you ever again.

I wonder, Harry, if you'd even recognise me. If we were to return to Hogwarts ever again, you wouldn't have to worry about your scar standing out, would that make you smile a little? Would you still trust me, still like me? Too much has happened, and for all I doubt and wonder, I know for certain that we can never go back. Whatever lies ahead, the past is gone and so are homework and embarrassing Valentine's Days, innocent self-righteousness (not excluding anyone here) and those lazy summer days where time seemed to stop and flow away at the same time.

I don't know what the future will bring, but I might not have much time left and maybe it's for the better (if you were here, you'd tell me to never even think that, and I'd tell you to let me explain and it would be just like those evenings spent in our common room, when you two'd refuse to believe that Potions is an important class). So before I walk into whatever it is that awaits me, I want someone to know and I will break the silence that has been one of my closest companions and give my story to the only one who might understand or condemn me and I can only hope that you might live to do either. Know that I have never stopped to think about you and Ron, however much you might doubt it as you read my story.

I so hope that my letters find you alive, and if they do not – well, in that case I might see you soon anyway in a truly better place. Whatever happens, I hope to find you on the other side and I hope you can forgive me.

I love you, and I'm sorry.

Hermione


	2. A Moment of Carelessness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here, the story begins...

Chapter 2 - A Moment of Carelessness

* * *

When we had decided to go and hunt down Voldemort's Horcruxes, after all that had already happened I had still been innocent enough to believe we were going on an adventure, we would be strong and would fight evil and be heroes. Instead I remember sleepless nights, cold and hunger. I was so afraid, I know we all were. Ron had never been fearless, and it made me smile to see he had still ultimately stayed with us, a proof of his loyalty and fighting spirit. I could easily have gone to Ravenclaw and Harry had told me, one dark night, that he was to go to Slytherin before he had begged the Sorting Hat to please please please sort him into Gryffindor, but Ron, he was a Gryffindor from head to toes. From time to time he would put his sleeping bag next to mine and hold me when the cold and the fear would overwhelm me (and I suspect that he, too, would feel its chilly breath in his neck). Harry would occasionally shoot us a glance or two, but he never questioned me, maybe knowing that I was confused enough as it was and probably also a bit lost in his own world, as we all were.

After our visit at 'Lovegood Manor' we'd all been a bit lost in thought. Between learning about the Deathly Hallows and our discussions whether we should focus on them or the Horcruxes to getting used to the fact that, inevitably, friends would die, families would break apart, people would betray each other to survive (and in the end, who could blame them? Xenophilius had tried to save Luna, as would any father, and now they were both missing), we got carried away. And it should have been clear, when we were listening to Potterwatch and I felt so happy seeing Harry smile, for the first time in so long, that there would be a price to pay for every moment of bliss, of carelessness, of innocence. Whatever Lupin had said about the "triumph of good" and the "power of innocence", the truth was that none of us could afford being innocent any more.

We had gone back to our endless discussion regarding the Deathly Hallows, Harry stubbornly sustaining that Voldemort was looking for the Elder Wand abroad.

"Harry-" I tried to say, tired of going over the same thing every second day, but Harry was had this determined look in this eyes that should have warned me. He'd had the same look in our first year, and half an hour later I had found myself surrounded by enough Devil's Snare to last me a lifetime. He'd had this look in second year, which is still kind of blurry, by the way, because I spent a good part of it _petrified_ and I imagine Ron would have a word to say about babysitting a dangerous and later demented wizard just around the corner of the Chamber of Secrets.

"Come on, Hermione, why are you so determined not to admit it? Vol-"

"HARRY, NO!" I screamed, too late-

"-demort's after the Elder Wand!"

for a split second, we looked at each other, as I felt the blood draining out of my face and saw my friends turn just as white, saw their eyes widen as quickly as mine. Then everything went downhill so fast and I know my heart was beating so loudly that I barely heard anything else. "Get out with your hands up!" THUMP – I managed to hex Harry, hoping it would be enough, but never really believing it – THUMP THUMP - "Get up, vermin," THUMP "-you know what, little girly? This picture looks a hell of a lot like you." THUMP THUMP-

And then Greyback's despicable, raspy voice: "We've caught Potter!"

And my heart stopped.


	3. Arrival at Malfoy Manor

Chapter 3 – Arrival at Malfoy Manor

* * *

Whoever built Malfoy Manor had obviously tried to create a building that could manage to look as uninviting as possible while still being more living space than dungeon. Though, of course, it turned out to wonderfully function as both. I remembered Narcissa Malfoy, who looked just as beautiful as she looked cold, but there was a new tiredness in her face and in her whole demeanour. We had been shoved and kicked and dragged into that drawing room I will never be able to forget. I felt numerous portrait wizards watching me, judging me, glaring at me – _they know what I am. They know I don't belong-_ I couldn't stop those thoughts escaping the part of my mind where I had buried them.

"What is this?" a familiar voice asked, and I turned to see Lucius Malfoy, who still looked as aristocratic and cold as his wife. He was still intimidating and radiated arrogance, but Azkaban had added scars to his body and soul and his once hard gaze seemed frantic and broken. I couldn't quite bring myself to hate this man, who looked like a ghost of his younger self, but I couldn't pity him either. I did feel a pang of sympathy when they brought in Draco Malfoy, in whose face I vainly tried to find the annoying brat I had met in first year and gloriously punched in fourth year and instead I found the broken eyes of his father in a face that seemed much too young.

I even dared to hope a little when Draco didn't outright give us away, and even more so when they decided against calling Voldemort right away, for they were still not sure of our identities, and of course I had to pay for that. Harry was brought away to what I assume were the dungeons (who builds a family home with dungeons?) along with Ron, my dear Ron, who screamed at them, begged them to keep him instead of me.

"If she dies under questioning, I'll take you next," she said hatefully. "Blood traitor is next to Mudblood in my book."

The last happy thought I had was right then, when I looked at my friends being dragged away buy Greyback, and saw Ron's desperate love and almost just as good: didn't recognize Harry. I had used a rare combination of spells, part of them I had stumbled upon in foreign library spell tomes, and I was as close as I got to confident in these days that only time could reveal Harry's face. I supposed that they didn't have any Veritaserum at Malfoy Manor, or they would have used it on us already, and that Muggle-Born Registration Commission and whatnot had probably drained the Ministry's reserves. With Voldemort potentially being abroad for extended periods of time, I calculated I had bought us two or three weeks.

It takes all of the strength I have left in me not to wish Harry would have been identified right then and there. Because if it were not for the Greater Good, that I have come to detest even though it is all I have left, all I must hold on, any death would have been better than what followed.


	4. The Pain and the Mark

Chapter 4 – The Pain and the Mark

* * *

Before those days I had felt so much. Hope and sympathy and fear and relief, love and desperation, lust and greed, anger, joy, pity and curiosity and pride. During my time in Malfoy Manor I watched helplessly as all of those feelings left me, escaping through the thin veil that my mind hat turned into, as the only thing I learnt to feel was PAIN.

Bellatrix Lestrange had started the torture to find out whether we had broken into her vault at Gringotts, but soon it became obvious that information was her secondary goal.

"You're LYING, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, tell the TRUTH!"

Between cackling and screaming and crying, she was pure insanity and hatefulness. Oddly enough, maybe it was her madness that saved me from becoming a traitor, for I could see no mercy in her eyes. The thought that she'd torture me regardless of what I would say kept me sane while she cut that awful, shameful word into my arm, it kept me sane through "CRUCIO!", again and again and again and again, CRUCIO and CRUCIO and PAIN, SO MUCH PAIN. Ron's screams from downstairs had quieted down, while mine left me uncontrolled. A few hours had passed, I think, and Bellatrix was covered in sweat, an insane grin and a furious grimace fighting for dominance in her face. My own body was covered in blood and sweat and tears and pain, as I laid on that cold floor, both tired and wide awake. We were both panting.

"Not so brave now, little Mudblood, are we, not so brave now," she cackled and walked over to kick me in the ribs, making me wince. I assumed she had broken at least three ribs and my left leg, and I was covered in cuts and bruises, both from curses she had thrown at me and those times she had descended upon me with her knife and claws and fists and boots. I had nothing left in me but silent tears that soon mixed with blood and dirt as they ran down my face, and I felt truly pathetic. _This is not right_ , I thought. _She should not have this much power over me, should not be able to make me feel like there is truth to her supposed superiority_. I had spent so much time in the library, writing essays, preparing for exams, trying to fit in, and it hadn't been good enough, and I was lying on the floor while this evil, crazy, purebl- while she was allowed to hurt me and stand and laugh. I looked at my arm and winced once again when I read, written in my flesh in bloody letters: _'Mudblood_ '. For all I had fought, in the end I hadn't been able to escape from my supposed disgrace, and now I was just as marked as a fucking Death Eater. That scar wouldn't leave me, no matter how much time I'd spend at the library, no matter how good my Patronus was or how many times I'd read **Hogwarts: A History**.

With one last look at my arm, I passed out.

* * *

 

When I woke up again, I found myself in a barren room, lying on the stone floor. Someone had replaced my clothes with a plain, ragged dress, and if the previous hours had not happened, I would have probably been ashamed of the thought that someone had possibly seen my body. I looked around: There were some rags in one corner and a wooden bowl filled with brackish water standing next to an old wooden table. No sight of other prisoners, and no sound got through the massive door in front of me. I staggered over to the bowl and tried to wash some of the blood and the mud off my body. Someone had healed my leg, but my ribs were still hurting and the water burned my skin as I washed over countless cuts on my arms, legs and feet. I rubbed my skin until blood started to pour out of some cuts again, trying to forget how I had cried and sobbed and even begged for death in front of that wicked woman. I saw a blurred, foggy reflection of my red and puffy eyes in the surface of the water and felt so ashamed for my weakness. _That's not how you pictured the hero you'd become,_ I thought bitterly and at the same time painfully jealous of my past self's naïveté.

Suddenly, I heard steps approaching. I hadn't even bothered to check the door – surely a bunch of Death Eaters wouldn't just let me wander off – and I heard it unlock after a series of magic impulses, silent spells, I assumed.

I felt only slightly relieved when it was Lucius Malfoy who opened the door, because at least it wasn't Bellatrix. He took a moment to take in my ragged cloth that was by now covered in red spots, my bruised arms and legs, my unkempt hair, that had grown quite a bit during the last month and probably looked just as wild as Bellatrix's by now and my wet skin that I hadn't manage toclean completely. His lips curled into a sneer so quickly that it seemed more like a reflex than like a conscious action. He looked like he enjoyed the sight of my desolation immensely. He might have lost a lot after the battle in the Ministry, but compared to him, even now, I was dirt in his eyes. Again, though, it was this broken look in his eyes that kept me from damning him as fiercely as Bellatrix.

"Ah, if it isn't our favourite mudblood," and I could hear that despicable sneer in his voice, even without looking at him. _Just leave me alone. I don't want to play your stupid games. But_ I said nothing.

"I've heard the tales, you know. 'Brightest witch of our age'... And there must be a little truth to it, since you have kept your stupid little friends alive up until now-"

"They're not-" I opened my mouth without thinking, used to defending my friends. _How dare you? What do you know about-_ But Lucius raised his hand in a way that left no room for arguments, and I was tired anyway.

"They are, and I would not have expected anything more from them. You, on the other side..." his voice now changed, and it might have sounded alluring in other circumstances. Now it made my skin crawl.

"Surely you have understood, by now, that we have methods, mudblood, that defy your clever magic tricks. Of course you understand, you're the smart one, are you not?" he was almost whispering by now, his voice smooth and even. "Right now your situation looks hopeless, but it doesn't have to be. You are talented, nobody questions that," and I crawled backwards until I felt the wall in my neck, as he knelt down, leaning in my direction, his voice a soft murmur by now.

"There might be a place in the new world for you, Miss Granger, the Dark Lord has always recognized power, has always respected magic, and your cooperation would not be forgotten," his face was nauseatingly close by now. "You and your little friends have suffered, haven't you, enough for a lifetime I'd wager. It does not have to be this way, Miss Granger, surely you understand that..." and I could feel his breath on my face, could feel that twisted smirk in my ear.

"You could save your friends with a few words, girl. The Dark Lord does not forget loyalty, and neither do I. Bravery does not always mean to fight battles... You could save your friends, and you would be a hero, and perhaps even protect your fellow... Muggle-Borns, I'm sure..."

By now I was basically pressed against the wall, dizzy from his sweetly poisoned words, hurting from the pressure on my wounded body, almost wanting to fall for his pretty lies. But when I heard him utter the word 'bravery', when I heard him talking about 'heroes', I came back to my senses all right. You see, I had experienced so much pain by then, so much hardship, but I still remembered the girl I had been, not long ago, who believed in heroes and who knew exactly what was Good and what was Not, and _you killed that girl, you prejudiced bastards, you made me a hollow copy of that girl,_ and with that thought I spit in his face, that had been a pleasant mask up until then, and where now my spit was mixed with my blood and my disgust and my bravery, as he called it, and before I could even see his face turning into a hateful grimace I felt him slap me hard enough to make my head spin and make me crash to the floor where my hot skin met the cold stone.

I felt him kick me in the ribs, that had felt a little better than before, and now started hurting again, so much, _so much_ , and I think I heard myself scream or did I just cry?

Lucius regained his composure quickly, and with one last kick he spoke, his voice now cold and cruel, leaving all pretences behind.

"You could have saved yourself, you filthy little mudblood. I have offered you more than you could have hoped for, more than you are worth. You will soon enough wish you would have accepted my generosity."

And with that he left my chamber, my cell, and it was now that my ordeal truly began.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 – Beauty and Steel and the Warmth of Vengeance

* * *

I started to treasure my memories instead of my plans. My body was weakening, but I had built a castle in my mind. I remembered my first Butterbeer, that I knew wasn't very strong, but it made me giggle and feel warm. I remembered my relief when I was sorted into Gryffindor. Up until then, my thirst for knowledge had separated me from anyone else, and yet I had been sorted into a house that meant loyalty, that meant friends. The Weasley twins had patted my back, like they were happy to have me there, like I wasn't a bother. That made me feel belong. Even more so when Harry and Ron ( _please, Merlin, let them be safe)_ had come to my rescue when Quirrel had let that troll into the castle. They hadn't even liked me back then, and were still willing to risk their lives for me. I wouldn't make them regret that.

I quickly lost my sense of time, so I started counting sleeping as night time. Bellatrix had been angry about my resistance at first, but now she seemed delighted. She had come to my room in the morning singing and humming, her screeching voice had stung in my ear.

"We are going to spend a lot of time together from now on, you muddy girl," she had chirped. "Girls need to stay together, isn't that right? No matter how _filthy_ -" and she traced the sore mark she had left on my arm, and hummed happily. "No more tricking people into thinking you're a real witch now, will you?" I looked at her arm to find the Dark Mark and couldn't help to say: "We have a very different idea of filth, Bellatrix."

I was prepared for another slap, but I saw her manic grin widen and she spoke in a sing-song voice: "Oh, we're still brave now, still brave, but I will make sure to teach you your place, I will."

And with those words she dragged my back to that terrible drawing room, never losing that wide smile even as I kicked and screamed on my way there.

It had felt good to defy her, but truth be told, it had been a bluff, and I was out of my mind with fear. _I survived yesterday,_ I told myself, _I'm going to survive today_. But when I heard the first "Crucio!" I was, again, alone. There was pain, so much fucking pain, my skin was burning and I felt my bones cracking and my skin breaking and then it was over for a moment.

I spent the morning like that, I don't remember much between Bellatrix's mad cackling and CRUCIO! CRUCIO! CRUCIO! CRUCIO! CRUCIO! And I think I heard other voices, hear a cold chuckle and "Bella, don't you think..." and CRUCIO! And the pain, the pain, the pain.

She half-heartedly tried to question me, but weak as I might be I still wasn't ready to give that part of myself up.

"I swear it's not Harry, he's hiding, I swear, we just found that sword, please please please," and she was half frown, half delight - for what was my torture was her favourite game.

 _I'll keep them safe_ , I kept repeating in my head, _I won't turn into a traitor, I won't make them regret helping me_ (one time, after a nightmare during the time Ron had left us, Harry had told me: "Seriously, Hermione, I'll never regret saving you," and he seemed so outraged at the thought that I had actually started to laugh because in that moment my fear had seemed so irrational). Slowly, though, I saw my thoughts changing to _I'll make her pay, I'll make them pay, I'll be stronger and I'll make them beg and tremble in fear,_ and I saw that picture in my mind of that damned woman, lying at my feet, that ugly smile wiped off her face, I saw Lucius Malfoy covered in blood, but this time it wasn't mine, I rejoiced in the image of Greyback being shred by some curse or another, I'd find the right one for sure. The beautiful memories that had kept me going were replaced by dark promises of vengeance.

Only later, in the darkness of my chamber, would I remember my twisted thoughts and be frightened of how warm they had made me feel.

* * *

 

Narcissa Malfoy had entered my cell to bring me new water, and she even had an old loaf of bread with her and an apple, which she carefully placed on the table in the corner. She shot me a glance that was cold, but not cruel, a small hint of doubt in her pale eyes, but she rushed out through the door without a word. I forced myself to eat, I was starving and yet I had to fight down every bite. I looked at my haggard face in the reflection of the water. How much time had passed since I had last recognized my reflection in the mirror? Carefully, I started to tend to my wounds as good as I could, washing down blood until the water turned red. I remembered Dumbledore telling Madam Pomfrey that he had a scar that looked like a perfect map of the London Underground, and I chuckled lightly. Maybe I could ask Bellatrix to try her hand at drawing an escape plan on my other arm, just to see her face.

There was nothing to do, so I kept walking through my mind palace, revisiting the good memories and what had until then been bad memories, but somehow they were just as precious to me. One time at the beginning of fourth year, Parvati had gotten the idea that we needed to keep up with the Beauxbatons girls, and convinced Lavender and me (though it hadn't taken much convincing for Lavender) to get all vamped up. Parvati and Lavender had giggled when I didn't know one single beauty spell and it had turned into a full blown laughing fit when they watched me suspiciously approaching Lavenders red lipstick. In the end, they had taken care of me, Lavender of my hair and Parvati of my face and I was kind of happy with myself until Seamus almost choked on his pumpkin juice when he saw me at the breakfast table and Harry wouldn't stop grinning at me. I had muttered something about it being a joke, and had gone to the bathroom to clean my face.

 _Seamus would probably choke if he saw my face now, too,_ I thought, and closed the door to that memory.

I had begun to build doors and walls in my palace, and was very careful with what I left unlocked. Unlike Harry, I had been training Occlumency obsessively even while still in Hogwarts, without telling anyone. There had always been the possibility of someone capturing us, and I didn't want to become the liability that I had always been afraid to be. I had learned to conceal and to focus and right now I was building a last resort filled with joy and beauty and protected by stone walls and steel.


	6. The Tempting Lies of a Crooked Snake

Chapter 6 – The Tempting Lies of a Crooked Snake

* * *

When I woke up the next morning, my rips seemed to have partially healed once again. Someone, I suspected Narcissa, had put an old comb on the table along with fresh water. I drank reluctantly, always afraid of Veritaserum or poison and combed my hair that had become so entangled that it hurt a great deal getting through it. I washed off the blood of some of the deeper gashes that kept opening up over night. There was nothing I could do to clean the blood stains out of my dress. I looked at the gaunt, pale woman that stared back at me with sunken, dark eyes and long, messy hair. There were bruises and cuts all over her ( _all over me_ , I had to remind myself). I knew I had never been a beauty but what I saw in the reflection looked like a dead woman. I wondered if death would have been preferable to my current situation, but with one thought of Harry and Ron I cast that gloomy thought away. I wished, once again, that our last conversation hadn't been some stupid fight about those stupid Deathly Hallows. Who cared now what exactly Voldemort was up to?

My thoughts were interrupted by heavy steps approaching my chamber. Bellatrix moved like a cat stalking its prey, so it couldn't be her. I wondered whether there were other prisoners around this part of the manor when I hear my door open and Lucius Malfoy stepped inside, his movements smooth and confident. His face was an emotionless mask, but surely he was pleased seeing me like this, that arrogant bastard.

"I hope to find you in a better mood today, Miss Granger? I am not keen on repeating our... conversation from yesterday, and I should hope my _dear_ sister in law has taught you some manners by now." I saw disgust distort his face for a heartbeat as he mentioned Bellatrix, but it was immediately replaced by his controlled coldness again.

I felt anger rise inside me. "Fuck you, you coward, you _monster_ ," I said, before I could change my mind for the better. "You act all superior, but even now you will let others do the work you think beneath you. Do you feel proud of yourself for facing a wandless schoolgirl? You're-" I quickly closed my mouth as I saw his mouth become a thin line and a dangerous gleam enter his eyes.

"I assure you, foolish mudblood, that while I surely think the likes of _you_ beneath me, it was not my aversion to inflict pain that kept me from joining Bellatrix." Again there was this hint of disgust, quickly vanishing again when I tried to get a hold of it. "I merely did not realise that you would feel... _neglected_ , but I cannot have you tell spread rumours of me being a lazy host now, can I?" And the dangerous gleam spread from his eyes to his mouth, where a hint of an evil smirk appeared, soon to be replaced once more by his controlled, neutral expression. _Why did I have to insult him,_ I thought furiously _, I know he is evil, I saw him fight, why couldn't I keep my big mouth shut for once-_ But now the Death Eater moved his hand slightly _,_ flicked his wand in a movement I didn't recognize, and all thoughts left my head as I felt dark magic pulling at my wounds, tearing them open, pressing against the gashes, oh _it burned_ , and I felt blood slowly running down my cheek where an old wound had opened, saw the bruise on my wrist darken, heard myself sobbing and screaming. Then, after what could have been a few minutes or an hour or a day, it stopped.

There was no expression in my tormentors face. Bellatrix would have been singing by now, but there was neither joy nor anger in the grey orbs that looked down on me and made my blood freeze.

"You do have a point though, girl," Lucius said casually, as if they were just continuing a pleasurable chat that had been interrupted. "Indeed I appreciate the work of others. Only a fool would insist on working alone. And I certainly will not refuse efficiency for the sake of pride, although I am quite sure your Gryffindor friends would stubbornly disagree," he sneered. I suppressed a snort at the thought of Lucius Malfoy talking about renouncing his pride.

"I am hopeful that you will think well of my words, Miss Granger. Stubbornness does not suit you." He stepped closer to me, his unmoved eyes staring intently down at me. "I know, I know, you Gryffindors are so very fond of your pride, of your _bravery_ , but I have been told you place loyalty above all. It is only a matter of time your blood traitor friend starts to talk, but how much will he suffer until then? And what about that other boy, who you insist is not Potter? Surely you do not want him to suffer unnecessarily, Potter or not?"

His voice had gone down to a soft murmur once again and I instinctively leaned towards him in an attempt to hear his words. This was the first time someone had mentioned Ron and Harry ever since we had been separated. It seemed they were both alive, and something in Lucius Malfoy's voice made me think the Death Eaters were counting on me to break. Maybe that meant that Harry and Ron were better than me, I so hoped it did.

I suddenly realised how close Malfoy was standing when he leaned down to me, half a smirk on his lips as he took in the sudden pang of longing and eagerness that must have showed in my eyes with the mention of my friends.

"You can save them, Miss Granger. Wouldn't that be... brave?" His face was now right in front of mine, his grey eyes piercing right through me. Something close to a smile was now lightening up his face, the evil gleam in his eyes replaced by a softness that could have fooled me, had he not tortured me mere minutes ago, had I not known he was a Death Eater. _Why can someone so rotten look so beautiful on the outside? He should resemble his repulsive master, and instead he looks..._ But I suppressed this impulsive thought and suddenly realised how uncomfortably close he was. With a shudder I broke free from his gaze and chastised myself for my carelessness. I stepped back and spit: "You speak of bravery, you speak of my intelligence. Do not insult me by acting like you believe in either, you foul, crooked man!" and I retreated until I could feel the wall against my back, trying desperately to get hold of some kind of support with my shaky hands. It scared me how easily I had swayed. Was I losing my mind? How much longer could I endure this until madness would claim me, or had it already begun?

The fake smile that had begin to form on Malfoy's face had turned into a cruel smirk that felt way more natural but just as unsettling. As he walked towards me, he lost all artificial casualness and I pressed back into the wall, wishing I could just disappear. His smirk widened at my obvious fear and his movements were all but predatory now, missing the insane playfulness that defined Bellatrix. He didn't look like a cat playing with its prey, like she did when she was fighting or torturing, instead he seemed as cruel and brutal and unforgiving as winter. He was towering above me, our bodies almost touching, and my eyes widened in fear. Was he planning on...? _Oh Merlin please don't take this away from me, too, please please don't let me be-_ I flinched as he raised his hand to trace my collar bone, his finger burning my skin and I wasn't able to scream, was paralysed in fear. Suddenly his hand shot upwards and he was now gripping my throat, lifting me up in the air against the wall. I struggled to breathe, but he only tightened his grip and a slight tremble told me he was _laughing_.

"Did you honestly think I would defile myself with you, mudblood? Could that be wishful thinking, even?" I was starting to panic, _I can't breathe I can't breathe,_ and barely registered his humiliating words.  
"You will find that I have been very accommodating until now, girl, and you might want to take advantage of that, for I can assure you I am not a patient man. Do not try me."

And with these words he let me fall down on the floor, gasping for air, and turned around to leave my cell without so much as a last glance in my direction.

* * *

 

So I sat there, panting, and traced the bruised skin of my throat with my fingers. A tear slipped out of my eyes, then another, and soon I was silently sobbing, my hands still folded in front of my throat, and thoughts of violence started to enter my mind. The last thing that went through my mind before I collapsed was me, choking Lucius Malfoy with my bare hands, his white skin turning darker and desperation spreading in his eyes, his beautiful face turning into an ugly grimace of pain and fear.

I passed out with a small smile that cracked my lips.


	7. The Lonely Princess of an Impenetrable Fortress

 

Chapter 7 – The Lonely Princess of an Impenetrable Fortress

* * *

There had been a lot of joy in my life, a lot of marvel and happiness, and fear and sadness, too. I carefully arranged memory after memory in my head in the following days, when a terrible routine started to set in. In the morning I would wake up, my body sore and hurting, my skin a bit paler, the circles under my eyes a bit darker, with more cuts and bruises on my body than the previous day. Someone seemed to keep healing some of my broken bones and bigger wounds when I slept, though I didn't think it happened out of mercy but instead to prolong my agony. Right now I was more useful to them alive, but that did little to cheer me up. Occasionally there would be stale food on my table, not enough to leave me satisfied but enough to keep me from starving. Narcissa entered my room one more time and brought a new dress, for mine was stiff with dried blood and old sweat by now. This time I had no doubt that I had seen a hint of regret in her face, underneath her cold and lifeless face, but she had cast a hesitant look in my direction and her face had hardened again as she quickly retreated.

After that, someone, usually Bellatrix herself, would drag me off to the drawing room that was so painfully familiar by now. Sometimes Lucius Malfoy would join her, but he would seldomly participate in the torture. He'd look at me in a calculating way, and while Bellatrix seemed to have lost all interest in questioning me ("She'll soon beg us to let her tell us what little she knows, anyway," she had cackled), Lucius' focus remained on obtaining knowledge on Harry's whereabouts, our plans, our knowledge. _If you think I'm gonna help you to crawl back into your bastard Lord's favour, you're wrong,_ I thought, hanging on to what little satisfaction I could get these days. Apart from Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius, Draco and Narcissa Malfoy and Fenrir Greyback, no one seemed to know about our presence. I assumed they were deathly afraid of disappointing Voldemort once again, who was still strangely absent because of that. Surely they would have told them they had captured Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger by now, even if they were not sure of Harry's identity, had there not been something very important keeping him busy. I started regretting the vehemence with which I had discarded Harry's theories about the Deathly Hallows. What if he had been right, and Voldemort was close to finding something that would increase his power even further, make him even harder, if not impossible, to defeat?

Lucius had come to visit me twice more. One time I had asked him about Voldemort, then about my friends, and told him I would take revenge, and he would suffer even if it was the last thing I'd do in my life and he had slapped me _hard_ and had left me lying on the floor with a thin flow of blood escaping my lips. When he had come the second time, I had refused to say anything at all, to look at him, to react to his presence. He had called me a foolish girl and left my dark chamber and hadn't come back, and somehow that scared me.

During the torture sessions I had started to retreat into my mind palace. I had discovered something that was close to, but still not exactly like Occlumency. It allowed me to escape into the depths of my mind, where I'd go through memory after memory, building rooms and gardens. Some memories I revisited many times, like the one where I had received the letter that had told me I was a witch, that I was _special_ , but for the first time it hadn't been the kind of _special_ adults used to justify why other children wouldn't play with me. One of my other favourites was the Yule Ball. I had never thought myself to be vain, but it had certainly felt good seeing everyone looking at me in amazement, even admiration. The look on Ron's face had been one of so much astonishment that it had almost been insulting, but it was in that moment that I had, for the first time in my life, dared to think that I _could_ be beautiful.

There were memories of my parents, of my mother reading bedtime stories to me, of my father telling me I he was proud of me, even before I had gotten the letter from Hogwarts that made me think that there was something he could actually be proud of. How I had broken one of my mum's favourite teacups one time as a child, without knowing how I did it. I had been so afraid of her anger or disappointment that I had started to cry, and then she had just hugged me and said that no cup was as dear to her as I was and had wiped my tears away. They were happy memories, but I rarely looked at them, because they always went along with the nagging sadness of knowing that I was the only one who remembered.

Like that, I retreated deeper and deeper into my palace. It didn't make the pain go away, didn't stop me from screaming and crying and begging for it to stop (if maybe less than before), but it allowed me to keep my sanity (or some of it), and it would make me remember who I used to be before pain and desperation had replaced all of my other feelings. But the _other_ images became more and more frequent, too. There were days where I fell asleep with violent thoughts keeping me warm. I built a basement in my palace where I kept those dark images that weren't memories but started to feel just as vibrant and real. There was me, torturing Bellatrix the way she was torturing me, approaching her left arm with a small knife, because if she was allowed to leave a mark on me it seemed only fair to take hers away. There was me, with an arrogant sneer on _my_ face, kneeling down as I tore into Lucius Malfoy, who was now lying on the floor instead of looking down on me, slapping him until he started to spit blood that would somehow look so beautiful on my hands. The moments were those dreadful thoughts would scare me became rarer and rarer. Sometimes I pictured Greyback getting eaten by wolves, screaming in agony as I watched him die. The irony of it did not escape me.

Speaking of Greyback, I started to notice him turning up for my torture sessions from time to time, staring at me with obvious lust and hunger (he probably didn't know the difference between the two), his face distorted into a wide, wolfish grin as he saw me quivering on the floor. When I would refuse to answer Lucius' questions he would lick his lips greedily and bark in laughter as I would inevitably be punished for it. He never participated in the torture, which I didn't quite understand but somehow I was almost happy for Bellatrix's presence and obsession with me if only because it meant that I wasn't left alone with that degenerate werewolf.

In the afternoons I would be dragged back to my room, tend to my wounds and pace up and down in the confined space of my chamber, trying to think of something that could save us or apathetically sitting in one corner of the room, walking through my fortress, raising walls and digging a trench around it, until I was sure not even Voldemort would be able to enter it. _Though he could still tear it down_ , I thought darkly. Eventually I would fall asleep, which was bad, because it meant nightmares, or pass out from the pain and exhaustion, which was bad, because it meant a painful awakening. By now I had spent almost two weeks like that.

It was amazing what human beings could get used to, because it took a lot of effort to remember my life hadn't always been like that. But the overwhelming fear that had torn up my heart at the beginning had started to become a dull shadow on my mind instead. I knew now that I could endure whatever they threw at me, which didn't make it less painful, didn't take away the fear or the anger or the desperation but it was reassuring, in a way.

Apparently, Bellatrix or Lucius or whoever had come to the same conclusion, because one day, after I had woken up from an especially terrible nightmare, I had been dragged to the drawing room and there was Ron, in the middle of the room, staring at me with wide eyes.


	8. Blinding Light and Silence

Chapter 8 – Blinding Light and Silence

* * *

For a long time, I could do nothing but stare at Ron as he stared back at me, none of us making a sound, none of us breathing, until suddenly I started to shake violently and almost tripped over my own feet as I ran into his arms, hugging him no matter how much it hurt my battered body. For the first time in Merlin knows how long I cried out of sadness and happiness and fear instead of just pain and I felt tears running down his warm cheek as well.

"Calm down, 'Mione, gotta calm down, 's all good," Ron murmured as he was gently stroking my hair, and it seemed like he was really talking to himself. I took his familiar, beloved smell in with a deep breath, then I took a step back to really look at him. He seemed malnourished and had bruises in his face and on his arms, a few cuts, too, but otherwise he seemed fine, much better than me, anyway. I breathed out in relief that he didn't share, obviously.

"By Merlin, what have they done to you?" he asked me, his voice trembling with anger. "I'm so sorry, 'Mione, I asked them again and again to see you, to take me instead, but they would never answer. I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he kept repeating, panic creeping into his voice, and I hugged him again, this time comforting him instead of the other way around.

"It's okay, Ron, it's not your fault! It will be good, Ron, don't worry. It could be worse." I tried to sound calm and collected, even though I couldn't say where I took this calmness from.

"How in Circe's name could it be worse?!" he asked me.

"Well, Professor McGonagall could show up to tell me I failed everything," I said, and Ron chuckled. The sound was like music to me. It seemed so ridiculous now that this had once been my greatest fear.

I wanted to ask him how he was being treated, how Harry was, if he was still 'safe', when familiar, heavy steps behind me reminded me that we were not alone, a fact I had blissfully forgotten.

"Isn't that _touching_ , Bella, the reunion of the lovebirds," I heard Malfoy ask mockingly and Bellatrix replied with one of her manic cackles and suddenly all happiness was swept out of my heart by violent, overwhelming fear.

"The filthy mudblood whore and the impoverished blood traitor," Bellatrix screeched enthusiastically. "It's as if they're _trying_ to be as much of a disgrace as humanly possible!" Her voice was filled with amusement and disgust at the same time.

Suddenly, the sneer drained out of Malfoy's voice and he was all pleasure and manners and politeness once again, not quite enough to fool me but enough to stir up something strange within me.

"Miss Granger, I do know you have suffered terribly over the last days, but let me remind you that it does not _have_ to be like this. I have not kept my grip on the Ministry by threats alone, and there is no shortage of people who would assure you that I can be quite... _generous._ " Once again a hint of that friendly smile appeared on his face and made something inside me scream _DANGER! DANGER!_

"I will ask you one last time to reconsider my offer. Tell us what you know, and you and your friend will be spared, will be able to walk out of here alive and free." His words were alluring, and I wish I could say that I discarded his offer right away, but I wasn't that strong and brave. I saw Ron standing in front of me, saw his familiar red hair, his soft eyes, his face that I had found again and again in my most cherished memories and for a moment I wanted nothing more than to take his hand and walk out of this terrible place for good. To leave everything behind, no more pain, no more fighting and running and hunger and cold and no more torture ever again. But the anger in his eyes brought me back to my senses and I realised that Bellatrix had used the _Incarcerous_ spell on him, because now he was fighting against ropes that were tightly holding him in his place.

"Don't tell them anything, 'Mione! I'm fine, I'll be all right!" he said, vainly fighting against Bellatrix's spell. As he saw the desperation in my eyes, he added, now in a calmer voice: "Listen, please listen, okay? Whatever happens, you can't tell them anything, you have to promise! If they know, we'll all die, Luna and Neville and McGonagall and everyone and Vol- You-Know-Who is going to win and no one can st-" and then Malfoy interrupted us once again.

"Bellatrix," he said in a bored tone, and then my heart was torn into pieces as Bellatrix screeched: "CRUCIO!" and Ron started screaming, and oh Circe, this was torture. I began screaming, tears streaming out of my eyes, begging them to stop, but they didn't. Ron continued to scream as Bellatrix made the ropes disappear, so now he had crashed on the floor, jerking and shaking in pain and tears were dripping down on his cheeks, but he wasn't able to speak coherently anymore.

Suddenly it stopped, and my screams turned into silent sobs, as I sank down next to Ron to hold his hand, afraid to touch him and cause him any more pain.

"Have you made up your mind yet, Miss Granger? Still determined to make your friends suffer out of stubbornness? You can end it right now."

I felt tired and lost, and my heart was in shambles. I slowly opened my mouth, ready to kill and ready to die, when Ron's weakened voice reached my ears.

"Don't, 'Mione. You gotta promise me, okay?" and he squeezed my hand and the fog in my head cleared a little. I raised my head and looked Malfoy straight into the eyes as I said: "I promise."

I took immense pleasure in the frown that took over the bastard's face at my words, and quickly looked back to Ron, who was now grinning like I had just stood up to Professor Snape or something, and I found myself grinning back at him, an expression I had become so unused to that it made my lips crack open once again, but I did not care. For the first time in weeks, I felt hope. They had tortured us, but we were strong, we weren't like _them_ , and Ron would never leave us again, and maybe, just maybe, we could make it out of here after all-

" _Avada Kedavra_ "

* * *

A flash of blinding green light.

A rushing sound.

And silence.


	9. Unanswered Questions and Questionable Answers

Chapter 9 – Unanswered Questions and Questionable Answers

* * *

I don't remember much from the following days.

They still dragged me to the drawing room. I felt the pain and I screamed, but my tears were a physical reaction to the pain, nothing more, and I had stopped to beg. Lucius had visited me in my cell once, the Day after the Green Light, but his words didn't get through to me, and when he had slapped me and kicked me I had simply curled up into a ball and waited for it to be over and he had left my room. Narcissa had brought a new dress once again, along with food that looked almost inviting, but I could barely bring myself to eat anymore. The only thing that kept me alive was the fear that I'd cave in and tell them about everything if I allowed myself to become too weak.

* * *

One day, I heard a commotion outside, and something like mild curiousness stirred inside me, but soon it had ended and my curiousness immediately subsided.

A while later I was dragged into the drawing room by a furious Bellatrix. Her curses were even stronger than usual, she must have been livid about something, and my screams could be heard throughout the manor, but even then I didn't care much. Just silently hoped for it to end, for her to slip and accidentally kill me. She hurled curses at me and kicked me and scratched my skin open, and I felt my bones break. _This time she'll mess up for sure_ , I thought. Even Greyback, who was sitting on an armchair in the corner looked a bit uneasy, though the greed in his eyes made me think his discomfort was directed at the madwoman's unhinged mental state rather than my well-being.

"That's enough, Bella." I heard Malfoy's tense voice. There was no compassion, something else was wrong. For the first time ever since _That Day_ I looked up and saw something akin to fear in his eyes. _Good,_ I thought.

Bellatrix and Lucius had a heated, if hushed, conversation. Both seemed to be angry, but I couldn't gather much of what they were saying. I heard the words "Apparition" and "cellar" and then I thought I had heard somone say "Dobby", but that had to be my mind playing tricks on me. Bellatrix huffed and stomped out of the room, and Malfoy got me on my feet. He brought me to my chamber, with a tight grip on my arm but at least he wasn't dragging me. He even filled my bowl with fresh water with a small flick of his wand and a quick look at my body, that was in the worst state it had ever been during my stay here. There was still no compassion in his gaze, but no contempt either, which surprised me.

"Clean yourself," he said silently. He looked at me for a moment longer, opened his mouth and closed it again. Then he turned around and hurried out of the room.

* * *

I was left alone after that for several days. No one came to drag me anywhere. Occasionally, I would wake up to some food or fresh water. Someone had healed my nastiest injuries. Sometimes there would be a light orb illuminating my room, but some days I spent in complete darkness. I wondered if they had forgotten me already, if they would just let me wither away, but I didn't care much about that or about the darkness. I'd sit or lie on the floor, pressed against one wall or another (I didn't feel comfortable with too much open space around me, a habit I had picked up quickly after we began hunting for Horcruxes). I spent much of the time with my mind in a haze, but occasionally I'd still visit some of my less painful memories and I couldn't be but amazed by the fact that there was something left inside me, yet. I visited the basement of my fortress for a few times, too, but hate is a consuming emotion and there was little enough of me as it was.

My mind started slowly working again. I hadn't cried out of sadness ever since _That Day_ , and I wasn't now. Feelings were dangerous. But I my thirst for knowledge had survived, and I started carefully arranging what little information I had. There wasn't anything else to do in the darkness of my cell, so I connected dot after dot, tried to find missing pieces and went over snippets of information I had heard, again and again (carefully avoiding certain memories).

Something bad had happened, bad for the Death Eaters, apparently, which was probably good for me. It had to do with the cellar, which was the place I assumed Harry and the others to be kept in. There were Anti-Apparition Wards over Malfoy Manor, that much was evident, but I was confident I had heard the word "Apparition". There was no way someone could have escaped out of here, just like it was impossible to apparate into Hogwarts except for the House-el-

Suddenly I remembered hearing the word "Dobby". I had believed to have misheard something, because what did Dobby have to do with- But could it be, that...? How would he know where they kept us, and why would they leave me behind? And who-

But my thoughts were interrupted by loud steps approaching my room, steps I didn't recognize. They were heavier than Bellatrix's and more careless than Malfoy's. Surprises were never pleasant at Malfoy Manor, _but then again,_ I thought, _how much worse could it be_?

My question was answered as Fenrir Greyback stepped through the door, a wide, distorted grin on his face.


	10. A Violent Fog

Chapter 10 – A Violent Fog

* * *

After all I had gone through during the last weeks, there should have been no more fear inside me. Bellatrix was an unpredictable maniac and Malfoy a sadistic tyrant, so my company had not exactly been pleasant up until then. Why did Greyback's appearance terrify me so much, then? I didn't bother with words, I backed off into the furthest corner from that degenerate _beast_ , pathetically cowering with my arms in front of my face. It only made him chuckle.

"You'd think I'd get used to the begging and the cowering, my delicious little Mudblood girl, wouldn't you? But every time feels like the first time to me, makes my stomach flutter all nicely, if ya get me." He slowly stepped closer, taking in my desolation, sniffing as if he could smell my fear. He probably could.

He was standing right in front of me, now. With an abruptness that made me gasp, I was jerked up by my wrists, which he kept in a grip so tight it was bound to leave marks. He forced me to stand, holding my wrists, that were stiffly crossed over my chest in vain protection, tightly. His bestial smell was suffocating from this distance. _Make him speak_ , I thought, trying to get a grip on myself, _speaking means temporary safeness_.

"W-what do you want?" my voice faltered miserably, but at least I managed to finish the sentence.

"Ahh, don't know what's more delicious, your fear or your feistiness. Makes my blood boil," he growled, the greed had now completely taken over his eyes.

"No sense in keeping it from you, 's not like you can avoid it anyway, righ'?" he said smugly. "There has been a little uproar with some prisoners. Nothing to worry your pretty little head with, so hush. But there is no more need to wait, and they have decided it's time to call _Him_..." The pang of fear in his voice made it obvious who he was talking to. No one instilled fear in this vicious beast except for Voldemort. What little blood I had left in my face drained out of it.

 _Fuck_.

"Gonna be honest with you, little Mudblood, 's not much time left, and I wouldn't bet a Knut on your life as soon as _He_ 's here. Those foul Death Eaters have kept you from me up until now, don't know why, didn't ask, but I deserve a finders reward and I'm sure _He_ doesn't mind if you're a bit... rumpled when he arrives here. 's hardly a loving environment you're in, is it." He laughed roaringly, a sound so disgusting it made me want to puke. Then his words got to me, and cold fear ran down my spine, reached for my heart. Fear I didn't think I could feel after _That Day. No, that can't be happening_ , panic started to arise, making my mind spin, _I can't endure that, too, no one can force me to, no one should live through- please please don't-_ And his laugh grew louder and louder, a wild howl that pierced through my ears.

"Fucking or killing, 'm never sure what to do first, but in your case, of course, killing ain't an option. You oughta be happy, really, you insolent wench. Besides, I have grown quite fond of your little temper, been watching your torture. Quite unusual how long you could withstand that woman, a beautiful sight, really..." he licked his lips eagerly and stepped closer.

His body was now pressed against mine, his nauseating smell making it hard to breathe. Suddenly, my panic made me unfreeze, and I started to struggle. His closeness made it hard to move, but I tried kicking him, tried to get my wrists free, in vain. "Get away from me, you fucking monster," I screamed and tried to scratch him or hit him, but his grip on me only tightened and if anything, my resistance seemed to delight him. "Now that's what I'm talking about," he groaned, and then he stepped back, but before I could feel relief over it, he slashed my dress open with his claws and the hate and humiliation I felt were overwhelming now, letting some blood flow back into my cheeks and tears rise in the corners of my eyes. He was ogling my exposed body, his revolting face now warped by greed and lust and hunger.

"Well I normally like them with a bit of meat on the bones, but I can hardly blame you for that, righ'?" he laughed and stepped closer. His one hand was still holding my wrists in an unbreakable grip, and struggle as I might, he still lifted them above my hand and started tracing my breasts with his other hand, leaving angry red marks. "Have had worse, that's for sure," he moaned appreciatively and I once again intensified my struggles. He was now _crushing_ me with his body, and with horror I noticed his hardness between my legs, eagerly pressed against me. Then his hand wandered downwards, finally settling in between my legs, and my mind went blank. There was only so much I could handle. Tears were silently falling out of my eyes now.

"Have been teasing me long enough, Mudblood whore," he muttered, his voice little more than a wolfish growl. His hand left me for a second, and from far away I heard the sound of cloth falling down on the floor, and then I felt his naked crotch pressed against me, heard his deafening groan in my hear, felt his hot breath on my neck and then he _bit_ me, hard, and suddenly I came to life again and started screaming, "NO! LET GO OF ME NOW!" and in my head, too: _No, no, please, don't do this, **NOOOOOOOO** -_

And then, a loud bang, hot light emerging from my body and Greyback was sent flying straight to the room, crashing against the wall with a lovely **Crack**! leaving me alone in the corner, a bit dizzy and panting. I quickly shot a glance to the door, it was closed. _So it really was me_ , I thought in amazement.

Even through my dazedness, I realised I didn't have much time, and I quickly walked over to Greyback, who had slumped against the wall, a big, painful looking burn wound stretching from his rips to his left leg. Who would have thought I still had a smile in me?

With trained movements I started searching his unconscious body and cried out in triumph when I found his wand in one of his pockets. After weeks without a wand, it felt like I had regained a part of my body. I tentatively flicked it, and sparks shot out of its tip. The wand felt inflexible and dull, but it worked and I laughed for the first time in weeks, though it wasn't the happy kind of laugh and it sounded eerie and in my ears. I cast a _Reparo_ at my torn dress and started healing some of my wounds. I needed to get some of my force back, or I'd lose the advantage I had so miraculously gained. What worried me deeply was the wound that filthy beast had left on my neck. I knew it wouldn't turn me into a werewolf, he was human right now after all ( _barely human_ , I thought to myself), but I also knew that a werewolf wound wasn't to be taken lightly. It would leave an ugly scar and only time would tell how it would affect me. I forced my thoughts back to Greyback.

I looked at the repulsive creature lying at my feet. I couldn't quite grasp what fate I had narrowly escaped just now. Lupin's words came to my mind. "Greyback specialises in children... Bite them young, he says, and raise them away from their parents, raise them to hate normal wizards." A dark fog started setting over my mind, streaming out of the basement of my palace until it had completely engulfed my thoughts.

Somewhere, I heard a cold voice utter unforgivable words.

" _Avada Kedavra!_ "

And when the fog lifted again, Greyback was dead.

I didn't allow myself to miss a beat. I had to hurry now if I wanted to make it out of here. I hurried into the corner that was invisible when you entered the room. I cast a Disillusionment Charm on myself.

And then I started waiting.


End file.
